Kobe Masalu E-Book

Christian Berger

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 227

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

Africa, 16th century. Kobe Masalu, the youngest son of a chieftain, has proven his courage beyond doubt: he has defeated a lion in a nighttime duel. But his triumph is short-lived. When Portuguese slave traders raid his village on the Ogowe River, Kobe is taken away—in chains, across the sea, to a strange world. A world of vengeful gods and burning hearts. In the scorching heat of the tropics, a new chapter of his life begins: full of pain, resistance—and an inner strength that cannot be broken. Between colonial violence, lost homeland, and the longing for freedom, Kobe not only witnesses history—he becomes part of a movement that changed the fate of the continent.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Kobe Masalu – The lion`s tooth

Dedication

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1

Interlude

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

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Kobe Masalu – The lion`s tooth

Dedication

For my teacher

Paul Mühlberger, SJ

and for

Jorge Maria Bergoglio SJ

Foreword

"We did not inherit the earth from our parents,

but have only borrowed it from our children."

– Sioux Lakota proverb –

Prologue

Kobe Masalu of the M'Wenga tribe sat on the banks of the Ogowe River and gazed eastward. In the soft light of dawn, thousands of mosquitoes buzzed over the waters of the gently flowing river. Occasionally, fish leaped above the surface of the water, trying to catch one of the myriad insects with their mouths. On the opposite side of the river, the silhouette of the Lope Mountains stood out. The densely rainforest-covered hills of the mountains stood in stark contrast to the savannah on this side of the Ogowe. The forays into Lope were a welcome change for the M'Wenga, as the tropical rainforest was home to mango trees and baobabs. The fruits of the monkey tree had always been used as medicine by the shamans. In addition, the hills offered a view of the sacred Bakete Mountains, where the Ogowe River originated and where the M'Wenga regularly underwent a cleansing ritual in the hot springs. In the swamp area to his left, the lead bull of a herd of hippos left his habitat and set about grazing on the grass along the riverbank. Incidentally, he disposed of his excrement by spreading the half-digested plants on the ground with repetitive movements of his short tail. The hippos were familiar to the M'Wenga. Only the paths that the animals trod through the rushes during their migrations made it possible to cross the swamp by canoe. The fishing grounds further upstream were always worth a visit. Kobe tied an almost rectangular stone to his fishing line and skewered the wriggling caterpillar of a forest queen on the rusty hook. The distance between the stone and the hook was calculated so that the caterpillar would float a cubit's length above the bottom of the water. Only then would Kobe catch the fish he was after. Kobe cast the bait into the water and smiled. He felt the weight of his bush knife, which now hung from his hip in a sheath made from a lion's tail. He had succeeded where his older brothers had failed. The memory of that fateful night came flooding back to him. As the chieftain's youngest son, Kobe had been tasked with herding the cattle. The night had been oppressively hot, and the cows had seemed disturbed and nervous. When the cattle finally calmed down, Kobe also fell into a brief twilight sleep, from which he was abruptly awakened by the roar of a lion. The big cat had grabbed a calf by the throat and thrown its powerful body onto its prey. Kobe took one of the last burning torches from the nightly campfire and threw it at the big cat. However, the lion did not let go of its prey and only bit deeper into the neck of the calf, which was screaming loudly. Kobe could only vaguely remember the events that followed. Somehow he found his spear lying next to him and hurled it with all his might at the majestic lion. The projectile struck the big cat under its left shoulder blade. With a deafening roar, the lion let go of its prey, got up, and ran toward Kobe. Kobe drew his bush knife. His heart was pounding in his throat. Every fiber, every muscle in his body was tense to the point of unbearability. Deep down, he felt that the gods had prepared him for this moment. The lion's first swipe injured Kobe's thigh, and he recoiled in pain. As the big cat approached again, his father's words echoed in his head. "You must show strength and let him feel it!" Kobe gathered all his courage and ran toward the lion with his knife drawn and a roar that rose from the depths of his soul. At that moment, his opponent staggered, and Kobe pounced on him. His knife penetrated deep into the animal's throat, and after a brief struggle, the fate of the majestic cat was sealed. Kobe was completely out of breath and gasping for air. What followed was like a trance for the successful hunter. The noise of the fight attracted the villagers of , who came running in droves to the scene of the confrontation and danced around the dead body of the big cat. The lion's head and tail were severed from its body with machetes. The meat was divided up and fed to the dogs. When Kobe awoke the next morning, his father approached him and handed him the lion's tail, which had been prepared with ox fat. Kobe drank a mixture of calf's blood and milk from a wooden cup. The warrior's prize. Kobe was now a warrior of the M'Wenga, and according to tribal custom, he was now allowed to choose a wife after completing the rite of passage.

The choice was not difficult for him: Inaya.

Chapter 1

Shining Gods I

Kobe touched the lion's right fang, which hung from a leather strap around his neck. After the nighttime duel, he had wrested the trophy from the big cat's monstrous jaws with his own hands. Suddenly, he felt a tender embrace around his waist. A gentle breeze blew through the waist-high grass on the riverbank. Kobe recognized his wife by her scent. "Have you caught something, Kobe Masalu, lion slayer?" Inaya asked mischievously. Kobe took her hands and turned around. "Of course, but what does our son say?" Kobe replied. "How do you know you're not talking to our daughter?" "He will have the strength of a lion and the endurance of a gazelle," Kobe replied, feeling his wife's bulging belly. "What are you doing here, so far from the village?" "I'm bringing the eager fisherman fresh millet bread and baobab seeds. Besides, I'm tired of being cooped up in the village. You know how much I love the open expanses of the savannah." Kobe opened the goatskin hunting bag filled with river water and pulled out a magnificent catfish. "Our meal, please, prepare it in a coat of banana leaves, just the way I love it. We'll be returning to the village soon, let's eat something first."

Kobe fetched fresh water from the river and sat down with Inaya on the bank. Hundreds of oxpeckers had settled on the backs of the hippos upstream, cleaning the animals of annoying parasites. After a short grunt from the lead bull, the birds rose into the air. Kobe followed their flight path and looked west. On the distant horizon, he saw a glint of light. Inaya was still busy eating the millet bread when he got up and looked at the river. "What is that, Inaya?" "Probably just a reflection in the water," said Inaya, looking up . "Come on, let's go!" "Wait, it's moving," Kobe replied. The longer he stared at the slow-flowing river, the clearer the objects on it became. "They're boats rowing upstream. There are men on the boats." "Probably the Za'Wanga, they come once a year to trade," Inaya said. Kobe sat down in the grass and waited. "Their boats are a different shape," he said. "Then let's go to the village and welcome them there," replied Inaya. "You know that Father has left for the sacred mountain with my brothers. I am now responsible for our tribe. I need to know who is entering our tribal territory." Inaya nodded understandingly. When the three boats came into view, Kobe took his spear and his zebra-skin shield and stood on a rocky outcrop by the river. Inaya stood at his side. "I am Kobe Masalu, the lion slayer, son of Chief Zuna. My father rules over the land and the river. Who are you?" There was no answer from the approaching boats. "They are not Za'Wanga traders; their oars do not bear the traditional colors," Kobe said with a hint of uncertainty. He repeated his request and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I am Kobe Masalu, son of the great Zuna, identify yourselves!"

But nothing happened. When the intruders had approached within throwing distance, Kobe hurled his spear at the first boat. The projectile missed its target and sank into the waters of the Ogowe. Suddenly, dozens of flashes of fire lit up the sky, followed by a rumbling thunder. The air crackled and mushroom-shaped smoke rose from the boats. Kobe felt Inaya cling to his body and slide to the ground. "What was that?" he asked, more to himself than to his wife. He looked at Inaya and saw the hole gaping wide open on her left side. Streams of blood stained the sandy ground dark red. Kobe screamed in panic, "Inaya!" He knelt beside his wife, who was writhing in pain. When the thunder rumbled again, he instinctively ducked. "Just get away from here," Kobe thought, and he grabbed Inaya with both hands and carried her through the waist-high grass of the savannah. , Kobe ran as fast as he could. The wound on Inaya's side bled incessantly. The blood dripped onto his hands, his forearms, and his thighs. Inaya screamed in pain. Kobe hurried up the hills behind which lay the village of M'Wenga. In the few moments when he lifted his eyes from the ground, he saw that Inaya's gaze was clouding over. "Hang in there, Inaya, we'll be home soon," he whispered. At times, he thought his strength was leaving him, but his wife's moans and cries of pain gave him new energy. When he finally reached the first mud huts, he screamed for help. Niam, Inaya's brother, ran towards Kobe, who was breathing heavily under the weight of his wife. "Kobe, what happened?" "There are strange men down by the river. Inaya is badly injured. Help me carry her!" Both men took Inaya under the shoulders and carried her into Niam's hut. With loud groans, they laid Inaya on the reed mat. "We have to stop the bleeding," said Niam. "Take some seeds from the baobab tree and mix them with the green leaves and ground crayfish shells over there. Come on, give them to me!" Niam put the leaves, crayfish meal, and seeds in his mouth. The shepherd's purse leaves burned like fire in his mouth and left a bitter aftertaste. Niam chewed the plants and crab shells until they had a paste-like consistency. Then he spat the mixture into a banana leaf. Niam looked up and met Kobe's gaze. "Who was that, brother?" Kobe shrugged. "I don't know. When I threw my spear at them, dozens of flames shot out of their mouths. The fires were accompanied by the wrath of thunder. I believe they are the avenging gods of the M'Pongwe, after all, my father stole you and Inaya from your village." "Our gods are like yours," said Niam, "but I have never seen a human breathe fire, let alone seen the god of thunder face to face." "But the sacred mountains and their mystical power," replied Kobe. "Yes, our people truly live on the slopes of the sacred mountains," said Niam. "But even the pymgies1, who live deep in the winding paths of the rainforest, do not possess such magical powers."

No sooner had Niam spoken these words than the air was filled once more with the deafening rumble of thunder. The walls of the mud hut seemed to shake. Niam and Kobe froze under the noise that descended on the village like a violent storm front. Gradually, the cries and desperate shouts of the villagers mingled with the thunder. Kobe took one last look at Niam. "I have to take care of the village. Can you stay with Inaya?" Niam nodded. As Kobe left the hut, he saw the true extent of the destruction. When the thunder first rumbled, many villagers had taken shelter in the protective mud huts. But now the thatched roofs were on fire and people were running around in panic. The village was under attack from several sides. To the north, Kobe could see Za'Wanga warriors covering the huts with flaming arrows. Their faces and upper bodies were painted with the red sand of their homeland. According to legend, the sand had turned red over generations due to the large amount of blood that had been spilled on the land. Their hair, however, was dyed with the white lime of the shells they used as currency. In the south stood the shining gods. Their bodies were covered with brightly shining armor. Even their heads glistened in the sunlight. Lightning and fire incessantly burst from their bodies, whose terrifying destructive power made Kobe doubt his abilities. Men and women, who traditionally had their children tied around their waists, fell victim to the wrath of the shining gods in droves. Even Serigne, the village elder, who had positioned himself in front of his hut with a spear and shield, was struck down by a powerful bolt of lightning and fell to the ground with his eyes wide open. His forehead had been split open by the lightning and a fountain of blood poured from his skull. Kobe remembered his father's words: "Face your enemy with strength; doubt has no place in battle." Kobe Masalu took courage and ran toward the shining gods with his machete drawn. Just before he reached them, he felt a noose tighten around his neck and the ground slip away from under his feet. Then his thoughts sank into the realm of darkness.

Kobe awoke from the darkness to the loud grunting of the hippopotamus bull. His hands and feet ached under the pressure of the iron shackles. As the animal's roar receded into the distance, the rocking of the boat in which he lay intensified. The smell of rusty iron mixed with the blood dripping from his joints filled his soul with a feeling of helplessness, even more so a feeling of vulnerability that he had never felt before in his life. Before he could even open his eyes, an overwhelming feeling of nausea came over him from the depths of his body. He vomited several times and gasped for air. The pain in his limbs was unbearable. Kobe hardly dared to open his eyes. As if through a veil, he saw a warrior of the Za'Wanga. The next moment, the warrior placed his bare foot on Kobe's throat. "Puke somewhere else!" he shouted with an expression of disgust and revulsion. Using a dried branch from the quiver tree, the warrior scooped water from the river and cleaned his foot. Then he poured the rest of the water over Kobe and his vomit.

Next to the warrior stood one of the shining gods. His white face was covered with a dark beard, but he had eyes, arms, and legs like ordinary humans. His chest and head, however, were covered with iron armor that reflected the sunlight in an unnatural way. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. "What has become of Inaya and Niam? Why are the Za'Wanga, who have always lived in peace with the M'Wenga, suddenly our enemies, and where are they taking me?" Every fiber of his body ached, and the dull roar in his head grew louder and louder. Full of resignation, Kobe closed his eyes again and withdrew from the world.

Kobe was brought back to reality by the hard impact of the boat. The Za'Wanga warrior attached a heavy iron chain to his shackles and ordered, "Get up, everyone, out of the boat." Only now did Kobe see that four other villagers were also in chains with him. Sirak, who had come to the M'Wenga from the north, and his brother Jamal had been badly beaten. Both struggled, like Kobe, to leave the swaying boat. Kobe looked around. Dozens of huts stood on the riverbank, smoke rising from them. The Za'Wanga drove the prisoners ahead of them with the tips of their spears. Prisoners from the other boats were also being driven toward a makeshift cattle pen. Kobe struggled to keep up with Sirak, who was walking ahead of him. With every step, the iron shackle rubbed against his ankle, causing the already bleeding wound to deepen and the bare bone on the outside of his foot to become visible. With his last ounce of strength, he dragged himself into the pen and fell to the ground exhausted.

The Za'Wanga warriors closed the gate and fastened the heavy iron chains to a stake. Only after all the prisoners had been safely secured did one of the shining gods approach a man with an imposing headdress. The feathers of the silver heron and the osprey were woven into a semicircular wickerwork of reed grass. "Chief Kappanira, here is your reward for your efforts." Kappanira took the leather pouch, opened the tobacco pouch seam, and looked at the silver coins inside. He nodded with satisfaction. "Take good care of the slaves, give them the necessities. I expect my reinforcements in the next few days. Then we will set off for Cap Lopez with the prisoners," said Roberto Ruiz. "Be my guest until then," replied the chief. In the middle of Kappanira's hut, a fire blazed, and above its embers, an almost round stone rested on four stone pedestals. Kappanira's wife took the prepared dough from a clay pot and formed it into roughly round balls, which she then pressed into flat cakes on the stone. The chief asked Roberto Ruiz to take a seat. A servant used a funnel made of banana leaves to pour the contents of an amphora into small cups. Kappanira handed Ruiz a cup of palm wine mixed with cow's milk. Ruiz first sipped the drink cautiously and nodded approvingly after the first sip. At a nod from the chief, servants carried the roasted leg of an impala into the hut. The crispy skin of the gazelle smelled wonderful and was seasoned with honey from wild bees. Ruiz had the honor of being the first to try the roast. He took his dagger and, with a skillful cut, separated a large slice of the tender pink meat from the bone. Kappanira gave him an inviting look, encouraging him to try the local delicacy. Ruiz took a hearty bite of the still-steaming meat and was immediately delighted by its taste and tender texture. The millet porridge flatbreads complemented the meal perfectly. After several cups of palm wine, Roberto Ruiz rose and thanked Chief Kappanira for his hospitality. He would spend the night on his boat with his men.

Kobe awoke as the equatorial sun disappeared behind the horizon. From all sides, he could hear the desperate moans of his fellow sufferers. The pounding in his head had subsided, but he felt a terrible thirst. "Come, drink some water," said a familiar voice. The veil had lifted from his eyes and he recognized Niam as the person standing opposite him, handing him a wooden ladle filled with water. Kobe drank greedily and immediately had to vomit again. "One more time," said Niam encouragingly. With a trembling hand, he took the ladle and drank in moderate sips. When he looked at Niam, he was deeply shocked. Above his left eye, Niam wore a blood-soaked rag that was fastened across his skull. "Inaya?" Kobe asked fearfully. Niam lowered his gaze and shook his head. "After you left the hut, the white people came. Inaya died in my arms, and shortly after, they caught me and dragged me out of the hut. Sirak's spear hit one of the white people on the hand, and she bled. Your gods of vengeance are flesh and blood." Kobe burst into tears. "Inaya and my unborn son are dead, the village burned down. Who are they?" Kobe asked, his voice trembling. "The Za'Wanga call them Portugesch, that's all I know," Niam replied, shaken. "But the lightning and thunder you saw are discharged from iron pipes they use. One of these iron pipes hit me on the forehead." "What will become of us?" Kobe asked uncertainly. "I don't know, but you are Kobe, the lion slayer, son of the great Zuna. Your father and your brothers will come and take revenge," said Niam.

After three days, the gate of the pen was opened. The high sun beat down on the prisoners with unabated intensity. Niam and Kobe were driven with the other tribe members to the banks of the Ogowe. The iron chains on their feet rattled on the way to the river. Overnight, more shining gods had arrived in large boats, which now lay in the sandy bay in front of the village. Chief Kappanira stood on the banks of the Ogowe River as the boats finally set sail. He looked westward with satisfaction. The raid had been a complete success for the Za'Wanga and had secured the future of his village, Lambarene2  , in two ways. On the one hand, the powerful Portuguese were now his allies, and on the other, the slave trade would develop from here for the benefit of his people.

Kobe and Niam were chained to the oars of the boat. They rowed day and night for their lives. At the stern of the boat stood one of the white men with a whip. If a rower strayed from the rhythm of the drum being beaten at the bow of the boat and took a break, he was reminded of his task with a blow from the whip. The instrument of punishment left thick, bloodshot welts on the prisoners' backs. Jamal, Sirak's younger brother, was at the end of his strength after days of unbearable hardship and collapsed on the rowing bench. Despite several lashes of the whip and the loud roars of the white man, he did not move a muscle. What followed terrified all the prisoners. Jamal was unchained and thrown overboard. The dull thud of his body alerted the crocodiles lurking on the shore to their presumed prey, and they entered the waters of the Ogowe. Jamal emerged from the waters of the river and gasped for air. He stretched out his arms and cried for help. Meanwhile, the boats drifted further downstream. After only a short time, Jamal's body was seized by the predators and pulled underwater with rolling movements. The waters of the Ogowe foamed in the face of the crocodiles' beastly strength. Sirak gasped at the sight of the drama unfolding on the river and burst into tears. Then he lowered his head in horror and closed his eyes. The next moment, the torn pieces of a human body became visible on the surface of the water. They finally disappeared into the wide-open mouths of the reptiles. "Let this be a lesson to you," one of the white men shouted in the language of the Za'Wanga. When Sirak opened his eyes again, they burned with the fire of anger. He tore at his iron shackles, rose from the rowing bench, and tried to grab the man who had handed his brother over to the floods of the river by the throat. A powerful blow from the fire-breathing iron pipe ended his attack, and Sirak slid unconscious to the floor. Kobe and Niam looked into each other's eyes and knew at that moment that their fate was sealed.

During the seemingly endless days on the water, the Ogowe widened as it flowed and branched into the meandering tributaries of a delta. On Roberto Ruiz's orders, the boats followed a side branch of the river. The main stream flowed further south into the ocean. The southern route led over the cape into the open sea. Despite the weaker current, Ruiz opted for the northern route. Cap Lopez was located on a bay facing the northern Atlantic Ocean. Boats carrying slaves arrived from all sides and joined together to form a convoy heading for the city's harbor. The stone fort with ten cannons towered over the city's harbor, protecting the city both at sea and on the mainland of the peninsula. Three Spanish ships were anchored in the bay. On board the galleys, the sailors were busy preparing for the upcoming crossing. They checked the rigging and cleaned the hull of barnacles and barnacle crabs that had attached themselves to the ship's hull over time. Numerous seagulls circled the ships, trying to fish one of the nutritious mussels out of the shallow water of the bay. After landing, Roberto Ruiz was the first to leave his boat. "Take the slaves to the market square," he ordered his men. "Alvarez and his men are probably already waiting for us." The market square of Cap Lopez was bustling with activity. Slaves were being herded onto a wooden platform from all sides. Under the constant barking of hunting dogs, dozens of terrified slaves crowded together to be inspected. A horde of capuchin monkeys fought over food scraps and incessantly harassed the chained slaves. The market square was surrounded by simple palm wood huts with shady canopies. Merchants offered their wares for sale everywhere. In one place, the gutted halves of gazelles were being sold, in another, the tusks of slain elephants were piled high.

Francisco Alvarez sat under a reed roof, sipping a glass of port wine with relish. "The price of ivory has risen significantly this year, what do you think, Pedro?" Pedro, the chief mate of the Santa Isabella, nodded. "How much do we have?" asked Alvarez. "About a hundred," replied Pedro. "That's not enough. Don Diego has ordered one hundred and fifty for the plantations. Buy more, but hurry, I want to set sail with the next tide.

The winds3  are favorable." "Very well, Captain," replied Pedro, inspecting the new goods that had just arrived.